


dress code violation

by jade304



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Shoe Kink, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 10:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9486410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jade304/pseuds/jade304
Summary: There he stood, shit eating grin on his face, all six foot and tall in heels that were borderline inappropriate. They were definitely inappropriate – he was already changing the rule in his head. No heels above two inches. The King’s Word is Law. There was no vetoing this one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is the second time i have ever written porn and its the first thing on my ao3 account in a long time. welcome to garbage
> 
> inspired by clarus' entire character design

It began with those damn heels.

It was personal retaliation. It was a declaration of war. It was blasphemy and high treason. He would not stand for it.

Regis had always worn boots with a slight heel to them – he stood at only five foot ten without them, and most of the council could easily stare over the top of his head. The royal family was always shorter than average, and Regis was no exception. They weren’t even that _tall_ of a heel – just enough to push him to exactly six feet, since he couldn’t possibly manage anything more without putting even more strain on his back and legs than he already exerted.

Clarus, before he started wearing them, could comfortably rest both of his arms on Regis’ head. Not that he’s tried, in recent years, but he _could._ And it was the _could_ that mattered here. Now he no longer was able to. Regis still, of course, was drowned out by Clarus’ sheer six foot plus of pure beef, but he could at least look everyone else in the eye now.

Until that Tuesday morning, seven o’ clock sharp, when Clarus arrived at the Citadel.

In _heels._

Higher heels than Regis could wear, because he was able to manage them – they announced his presence long before he said a word, and the king whipped around faster than either of them thought possible. There he stood, shit eating grin on his face, all six foot and _tall_ in heels that were borderline inappropriate. They were definitely inappropriate – he was already changing the rule in his head. _No heels above two inches._ The King’s Word is Law. There was no vetoing this one.

Clarus didn’t say a word as he walked over to Regis side, but let out an amused snort when he was shoulder to shoulder with him. Damn the man, he was definitely taller than him now.

The council would meet for four miserable hours that morning, reconvene for another two in the afternoon, then Regis would be busy late into the night managing paper work. It would be another long night, he would have to send for someone else to help Noctis to bed, and on top of this, there would be no time to kick Clarus’ ass.

Truly disappointing.

Even _more_ disappointing was the look that Clarus kept giving him during the meeting. And he knew it. He knew exactly was he was doing – nobody needed to stretch _that_ far to gesture, nobody needed to swing their hips _that_ much as they walked off during a recess. Disappointing and unnecessary and by the Six was he ready to rip that smug grin off his face if it was the last thing he did that morning.

 

 

Four hours came and went, and he retreated to his office with a throbbing headache. And only a headache. Clarus could bite him.

There was a swift knock at the door, and he acknowledged it with a slight sigh.

“Your Majesty, if I may.”

“I was hoping you would stop by, Clarus.”

Clarus had at least wiped that godsforsaken grin off his face. He looked slightly somber, and for a moment it gave Regis pause, wondering if something happened, if now wasn’t the time. Clarus stood with his arms crossed, standing tense and straight, staring him directly in the eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“You seemed as if you had something to say to me earlier. I was only wondering if you wished to talk.”

Oh, there it was. He wasn’t grinning, but he was fighting it. It was back with a vengeance.

“You know, Clarus,” Regis said, turning back to the papers in his hand, “The formal dress for the council prohibits heels over two inches.”

He didn’t make eye contact, but he heard Clarus bite back a laugh.

“I was unaware such a rule existed, your Majesty.”

“New policy,” Regis said, licking his thumb to flip a page over. He tiled his head to the side. “As of this morning.”

“Are you that petty?”

“It is _unnecessary,_ ” Regis spat, finally looking up at him. He felt himself pouting, and quickly rearranged his face, but it was too late. Clarus had seen it. He was done for. This was the end.

“I apologize, your Majesty,” He said, and then he reached behind him and locked the door. Well, then. That’s how it was. “I’ll rectify it tomorrow.”

“Good,” Regis said, a bit weaker. “Good.”

“Is there anything wrong with them in particular?”

Regis stood from his desk, grabbing along the side of it to balance himself and push himself up. Clarus was standing slightly more casually, tapping the heel of his boot on the tiles. Regis walked over, looking him in the eye – _up_ at him in the eye, the whole reason they were here, dammit.

“They’re. Hazardous, probably. You could trip and fall, and then the King would be without a bodyguard.”

“Very true,” Clarus replied, “But I assure your Majesty that if I were not able to fight at a moment’s notice in these, I would not have dared to wear them.”

Well.

Him fighting _in_ those heels is a welcome picture.

Really welcome.

God _dammit,_ Clarus.

“You would lay down your life for the king in three inch heeled boots,” Regis said, flatly. He bit at the corner of his lip. Clarus noticed. He always noticed.

“You’re looking a little flushed, your Majesty. Perhaps you should lie down instead.”

Regis glanced back at the clock in the wall. They would all reconvene for the afternoon session in three hours. There was ample time. For the nth time that day, _damn Clarus._

There was nothing in the room to actually lie down on, and he glanced back at the hard tiled floor. This would be misery on his back, and he knew it, but he looked back at Clarus and gave a small nod. The bigger man took him by the shoulder and gently eased him down to his knees on the cold tiles.

“I’ll let you off with a warning,” Regis said, glaring and already uncomfortably hard in his trousers. “Next time, perhaps follow the rules.”

“You still haven’t told me exactly what is wrong with them,” Clarus said. With that, he pressed the sole of his boot into Regis’ chest, slowly pushing him back into lying on the floor. He kept his foot firmly pressed on top of him, keeping him loosely pinned to the ground. Despite the thick soles of his shoe, he was nearly certain Clarus could hear his heart hammering.

“Inappropriate,” was all Regis responded, and Clarus smirked.

“Ah?” He said, guiding his foot so that the tip of his boot rested at Regis’ chin. “I rather like them.”

Regis tilted his head back, and Clarus eased off his throat, giving him enough room to lift his chin and stare him directly in the eye. He craned his neck slightly forward, darting out his tongue and licking the tip of his boot.

Clarus actually _shuddered,_ a full body shiver, and bit the inside of his cheek as Regis took the entire tip of his shoe in his mouth, running his tongue along the sole of it, still not breaking eye contact.

“Regis,” Clarus breathed, and removed his foot from his mouth with a wet _pop._ This was a large shift from their usual arrangement, the king lying beneath him, pinned down and _letting him,_ and Clarus made a small strangled sound in the back of his throat. He moved his foot down, pressing it into Regis’ clothed dick, and the king groaned.

“Inappropriate,” Clarus echoed, and the grin, however weaker, was back. He ground the toe of his shoe into Regis’ groin, and he let out a light yelp, back arching off up the floor, hands clenching into fists.

“Dammit, Clarus – “ he wheezed, kicking Clarus’ foot away with his thigh. “ _Get down here._ ”

Clarus dropped to his knees immediately, straddling the king’s waist and bending down to kiss him. Regis fisted his hands in the other man’s longer hair, gasping open-mouthed into the kiss, grinding his hips up to meet him. They both still had their outer layers on, and Regis hurriedly yanked the fabric of Clarus’ cloak aside to grasp at his cock through his trousers, made easier by the v-shaped cut of the material. Clarus whined needy into his mouth, grinding into his hand, hands braced on either side of Regis’ head.

Regis fumbled with the buttons on his pants with one hand, yanking the fly of them down and pulling out Clarus’ cock, already an angry red and throbbing in his hand, swiftly stroking him in one motion from base to tip.

“Reg,” He whined, grabbing at the waistband of the king’s pants and yanking them straight down to his thighs, taking Regis’ cock and his own in hand and grinding against him.

Regis came in a near fucking _instant,_ gasping and grabbing at Clarus as he spilled over his hand. Clarus moaned brokenly, letting go of Regis’ cock and using his come to jerk himself off, the king staring up at him with his eyes wide and cheeks flushed.

“Regis, love,” Clarus breathed, leaning over to kiss Regis as he came with a wheeze, hips rolling into the king’s lap.

They laid there for a few moments together, breathing deeply and wallowing in afterglow, before Regis shimmied away from under him with a disgruntled sigh.

“It’s well past noon,” He grumbled, wiping fruitlessly at the mess splattered across his shirt, blessedly missing his cloak. “And we are disgusting.”

“We still have time,” Clarus said. That insufferable smirk was back. “Wouldn’t want to be out of dress code.”

He was most definitely getting his ass kicked later, whether it fit the schedule or not.


End file.
